Triptych
by kkscatnip
Summary: A triptych of scenes written for a prompt on the kink meme. Neil/Lyle, Lyle/Klaus, Tieria/Lyle. Gunporn, etc.
1. Only you

**Pt 1: Only you (Neil/Lyle, phone sex)**

This was originally written for the Gundam 00 S2 Kink Meme Livejournal. The prompt was Lyle/anyone, phone sex, wall sex, and bed sex.

"Only you would join a terrorist organization for the hot ass," Neil says, like it's something he would never in a million years dream of doing.

Lyle snorts out a laugh, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling. "If I recall, you did mention something about a pink-haired girl? And a purple-haired boy. And-"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, so maybe we have that in common," Neil admits, amusement coloring the grudging words.

"You get any yet?" Lyle asks, trying not to sound too interested. Even though he is and Neil probably knows it. They always maintain that illusion of distance, the necessary aloofness in tone and action.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Neil says, voice dropping down a couple octaves.

Lyle thinks, Oh yes. It's _on_, now. "i..."

"What's the magic word?"

"Cocksucking." Lyle says, making it sound like the most natural thing in the world.

"Mm-mmm. Physically impossible; I'm in space and you're on Earth and neither of us are _that_ limber. Try again."

"Masturbating." He wasn't, yet, although he was stretched out in bed, sans pants. He may have been counting on something like this happening. Just maybe.

"Getting warmer. Try multiple words-'magic word' is sort of a euphemism, you know."

"Phone sex?" he asks, breathing the word out like it's his lover's name. He's rewarded with the sudden hitching of Neil's breath, no sound at all and then a woosh followed by a shaky inhalation. "What are you wearing?"

"Gloves," Neil murmurs.

"That's all?" Lyle wishes he could imagine it better, but having not seen his brother since their eighteenth birthday there's a very clear image of Neil's face and of his cock-both mirrors of Lyle's-and the further away he gets from those two areas the more blurry the imaginary lines of Neil's body become.

"Yep." The word is almost a sigh.

"You still wear them all the time?" He remembers the comment, almost offhanded at the time, after a week of Neil wearing the gloves indoors and out: Neil would take the gloves off when he could work-live-without them and still keep his hands clean.

"Yep." Another sigh, this one sounds forced.

Would you take them off for me, Lyle almost asks, but bites his lip so that he doesn't. He's tried before. Neil won't take off the gloves for him.

"What about you?" Forced casualness, now. Lyle's kicking himself for acknowledging the gloves.

"Tank top and socks," Lyle answers, making the words as sexy as he possibly can. Needs to get this back on the right track-it's not as if they have hours to spend, here. It's not like things were when they were teenagers.

"No gun holster?"

Lyle's cock throbs a little at the mention-it's a kink they share. "On the nightstand. Want me to-"

"Yeah. It's loaded, right?" Neil's voice has that tell-tale breathlessness to it, the one never-failing dead giveaway that he has a boner.

"Always." Lyle reaches for the handgun on the nightstand, fingers wrapping around the grip and lifting the piece from its resting place.

"Mmmm. What kind?"

"Glock 54."

The sound that Neil makes is something between a moan and a noise of acknowledgment. It's both, caught in the middle as it is, and it makes Lyle's cock jump in anticipation. "Been a while?"

"Since I've held a pistol?" Neil asks, voice dreamy. "Yes."

Lyle runs his fingertips over the barrel of the gun, from rear sight to front sight and back again, relishing the feel of the smooth, cool metal. "They don't let you have handguns up there in space?"

"Ti- my ... teammate ... says too many things could go wrong."

"Ah." Lyle can imagine a few likely scenarios pretty easy, and he's never been in space before. The idea of Neil explaining why he would want a gun with no ammunition made him smile. But this is distracting; they only have about ten minutes left before Neil has to cancel the call-security issues, he'd said. "Well, I-"

"Fuck yourself with the gun," Neil says in a way that should be abrupt but isn't. Just normal Neil, telling Lyle what to do.

And normal Lyle, scooting to the edge of the bed fumbling blindly under it for his lubricant. "Gimme a sec. Lube."

"Do it rough." Rough like Neil's voice, Lyle thinks. "I want you to be sore tomorrow."

Like Neil himself would do it, that dark, inhuman quality creeping into his voice as he bends Lyle over- Lyle groans, fingers finally closing around the elusive bottle of lube and squeezing probably a little too hard. He'll have to clean that up, afterward, and maybe even one day learn to refasten the cap properly after use. For now he just lets the gun rest on his stomach as he squirts slick fluid onto his fingers and spreads his legs wide.

"C'mon. You're not even fingering yourself yet, Lyle. I want to hear-"

Lyle's shaky inhale as he slides two fingers into himself-what's the sense in starting with one, when he'll end up sore anyway?-is soft, but obviously what Neil was listening for because it makes him cut off. And listen for a moment. Lyle gives him something to listen to, breath puffing out in a series of soft hah, hah, hahs that match the rhythm of his fingers in and out of his ass.

"Mmm. That's more like it." Neil is silent for a few long moments; Lyle adds a third finger to the first two, barely managing to work it inside of him before Neil interrupts. "Okay. Now the gun."

He's not ready-he knows it. It's going to fucking hurt. But that's not what stops him. What stops him is-"Condom."

"Of course. Don't want to get it dirty."

Lyle's fingers are shaky, but the condoms are kept in a certain place, unlike the lube. Very back of the drawer of his nightstand. Easy enough, and an excuse to roll over and grind his hips against the bed a little. And- oh, he likes this position, he thinks. It's a little hard on the headset, but...

"On your stomach?" Neil has an uncanny ability to pin down Lyle's movements, based on the sounds he makes. Probably also based on the distortions of the sounds thanks to the placement of the microphone.

"Mmm," Lyle confirms, best he can. He opens the condom package, sliding the latex over the barrel. It's not exactly a tight fit but he can't bring himself to care. "Want me to do it like this? I'm- mmm. Kneeling, now. Reaching between my legs-"

"Yeah. Just like that."

Lyle moans, hand automatically stopping at his cock to give it an encouraging squeeze. It's not him-it's Neil, making him relax, gloved finger gliding over the head of Lyle's cock slowly.

"Imagine it's me behind you-"

"Fucking me with _your_ gun," Lyle supplies, in a voice that's probably not entirely comprehensible. Drawling some parts of words, cutting off others. "That-long-barreled pistol you had in sixth form. 'member?"

"Oh, _god_," Neil moans, and Lyle's cock throbs. They hadn't thought to use guns this way in the days when they were together in person. Just- in the time since. But mixing the past and the present always made things more vivid.

"I'm- ah!" Lyle can't keep talking and push the gun inside of him at the same time. He just _can't_, not with the chill and the complete lack of give, the solidness, of the metal making him shake. He could never imagine it was anyone's cock, Neil's or- nobody's. It's too inhuman, too completely unforgiving as he pushes it in deeper, ragged moan wrenching its way free from his throat.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Neil's voice could've been cruel, in some world, and probably was, but inside the place Lyle is now it's pure audible sex, low and mean and just for Lyle. "Do you want to stop?"

"Y-yes," Lyle heard himself saying, even if it wasn't strictly true. He didn't want to stop. But he wanted the pain to stop, wanted the loneliness to go away, and most of all wanted his brother to come back.

"Too bad. Are you jacking off?" The way the pitch in Neil's voice rose and fell rapidly-every other word-indicated that even if Lyle wasn't, Neil was.

"Sh-sh-should I?" Oh, god, he sounded so pathetic.

Neil didn't seem to mind, though, breath growing shorter, soft schtick-schtick of hand-on-cock in the background. "No. Fuck yourself."

"With the g-gun?" Lyle asked.

And was rewarded with a low, needy sound from Neil. "_Yes_."

Lyle did. Not fast-too tight for that, not a good position for relaxing-but steady. At first, anyway. Then he managed to hit his prostate-Neil moaned, softer than Lyle's but no less pleased-and the world got a little shaky around the edges and it quit mattering that he wasn't relaxed enough to go fast.

"Yes, yes, yes." Neil's mantra was unstopping, if breathy, steadily increasing in pitch and frequency until it became an almost feminine sounding "yesyesyesyesyes" and then- Neil cried out.

And the connection cut off.

Lyle screamed his frustration into the pillow, hands falling away from the gun. His thighs shook as the gun slowly slid out of him, falling unceremoniously onto the blankets. The ache in his balls was more painful than anything else so far, so he rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes and finished jacking off, imagining his brother.

Imagining that he was shaking with sexual need and not anything else.

He came quietly; no one was there to hear him.

That, Lyle thinks, explains a lot.


	2. The only problem

**Pt 2: The only problem (Lyle/Klaus, wall sex)  
**

The only problem with Klaus, Lyle thinks, is that he's a slut for it as much as I am. It makes deciding who tops usually devolve into whoever _loses_ the battle for dominance getting what they want-but not always.

No, there are times when Lyle is so pissed off or frustrated or just generally horny-or, worst, all three at once-that he wants to fuck someone until his dick is sore and, well. There's Klaus. Ready and willing.

Surprised, that morning in bed, but ready for the sex that ends up being the roughest Lyle has ever given.

Ready on the kitchen table after breakfast, with wanton eyes and an apron tented by his cock.

Ready again in the bedroom, an hour later, kneeling on the floor with his arms crossed on the bed, looking over his shoulder at Lyle.

Slightly less enthusiastic but still ready twenty minutes after that, in the shower, on his knees again but with Lyle fucking his mouth this time. Face the perfect amount of passive mixed with distressed as Lyle's fingers dig into the back of his neck and he makes Klaus choke on it.

Not at all ready in another two hours, when Lyle pins him against the wall.

"Again?" Klaus growls out, not spreading his legs like the obedient whore he's supposed to be.

Lyle reaches down, intent on helping Klaus remember exactly what he is supposed to do at times like this. "Don't back-talk." He slaps Klaus' ass, once. Again, on the other cheek, to keep things even.

Klaus hisses through his teeth, probably somewhere between pleasure and pain. Maybe more toward pain-Lyle has been less-than-delicate with his ass already today.

"You're still ready from earlier, aren't you?" Lyle murmurs, as one impolite finger skips right past pleasantries and slides inside Klaus.

Klaus, despite himself, pushes back against the intrusion. Initially, anyway. He moves away a moment later, back toward the wall. Lyle's lips curl into a grin. "What, can't take it? I thought you _liked_ bottoming."

"I _do_. Just-"

"Shut up, then," Lyle says, cutting off anything like rational reasoning. He is _horny_. He wants to fuck Klaus silly. The end. "'cause you're getting fucked."

For a shock, Klaus obeys.

And is ready, afterward, when Lyle to drags him back to bed so they can sleep.


	3. I'm not

**Pt 3: I'm not... (Tieria/Lyle, bed sex)**

"I'm not him," Lyle says to the mirror in the showers. Practicing. It should feel like the truth, but it doesn't.

The truth is, he was Neil. Neil was him. Spend the first eighteen years of your life living in someone else's pocket, sharing tragedy and defeat, and there's a likelihood that you end up similar, shared DNA or no.

Once upon a time they had switched often enough at new schools, or for foster parents who hadn't learned to tell them apart yet. Pretended to be the other one. Lyle had been the thinker, Neil the doer. Neil had gotten into fights, Lyle had aced tests. But that didn't mean that Lyle had never fought or that Neil had been bad at tests.

No, those were just the persona they had crafted for one another. Teachers and parents praised and berated them for those things because the boys had learned how to make them focus on those things.

But that was while Neil was alive and by his side.

Neil is dead now.

There will never be a random, not-quite-ten-minutes-long phone call. Never another letter, never any more money from an anonymous donor, never any more Neil outside of Lyle's memories. Never-

"Lockon?" Tieria's voice interrupts Lyle's thoughts; he winces at the use of the code name. "Are you, er. Okay?"

Lyle starts, suddenly realizing that he's been standing, staring silently at the mirror for several minutes now. Oops. Tieria was probably worried about his gundam-piloting capabilities, if he couldn't take a look in the mirror and remain sane.

Not that any of the pilots were really _sane_-the lack of it seemed to be a requirement, except for Allelujah, who undoubtedly had some sort of insanity that he was cleverly concealing. Nobody survived four years of torture and imprisonment without some sort of lasting effect.

"'m fine," Lyle says after too long, probably betraying the untruth of his words.

"It's natural for you to have, ah, feelings of guilt, or anger, or- well, all of us have been dealing with it for four years and you just found out a month-"

"I knew," Lyle says, breaking in because he's not willing to let the lying go that far. "He called me, every so often. Sent letters. Money. Birthday cards. Dirty pictures."

"...dirty pictures?" Tieria asks, obviously focusing on the only important thing Lyle had said. "I can't believe he'd take pictures of others and send-"

"Of _himself_," Lyle corrected. Neil had only ever sent dirty pictures once, and he'd been falling-down drunk when the pictures were taken-probably on Sumeragi's alcohol, he now knew. That night had been the only time that their phone call had been audio and video instead of audio only. "With his face blurred out."

"Oh." Tieria actually looks surprised, red eyes blinking rapidly a few times before just remaining open and staring. At Lyle in the mirror.

"Mmmm." Lyle stares back. He doesn't feel any shame, but he thinks about faking it. Decides against it. "He never sent you any dirty pictures?"

There's nothing gradual about that blush, the way Lyle had imagined there might be. Tieria's cheeks immediately take on a red tint and his lips press together in a thin line.

"I can't decide if that's a no or a yes," he says, probably teasing beyond what he should but not caring. He knows it's not nice to tease someone about their dead boyfriend, if Neil did indeed succeed at ensnaring both his targets. It's clear enough that Feldt had feelings for him, and that he never took advantage of those feelings. Maybe Tieria is the reason why.

"It's- he- he didn't _need to_."

Ah, that answers that question, then. "Nice."

"_Nice_?" Tieria sputters, anger finding its way into that expression. Lyle realizes that Tieria is without his glasses-probably in preparation for the shower. But he does have a towel around his waist, much like Lyle. Funny how he'll abandon his glasses-his vision-before he will his modesty.

"Nice, you know, like 'good' or 'cool' or 'congratulations'. Neil was good in bed."

Tieria just stares at him, like he can't believe Lyle says what he says. Lyle may be saying it just to keep that expression of pure shock painted across those pretty features.

"You don't think so?" Really, he's going too damn far, but Lyle can't stop, and can't stop grinning either.

"I think you're being such an asshole so no one will notice exactly how alike you two are," Tieria says.

Lyle shuts up. Stops grinning.

And continues to shut up, looking down at where his hand holds up his towel. His chest, wet from the shower.

"You're not the same person, but you're not so different from him, Lyle Dylandy."

Lyle takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He leaves without looking at Tieria.

"I'm sorry." The voice makes Lyle jump, looking up from the dim glow of his hand-held computer to the space where the noise came from.

The speaker on the wall. Connected with the one on the other side of the door. Which means Tieria is on the other side of that door.

Lyle feels like a kid with his hand caught in the candy jar, sitting here naked on his bed scrolling again and again through the four pictures that are the only mementos he has of his brother.

The soft shhht of the door opening is like his worst nightmare come true. He wonders for a moment why he didn't lock the door, but then remembers that he never locks the door. It isn't as if he has anything in here to hide, or to be ashamed of.

No, just someone to hide _from_, which is entirely different.

Tieria doesn't even seem to notice Lyle's state. Then he steps close enough for Lyle to see the faint tinge of pink in his cheeks and Lyle realizes that Tieria probably knew exactly what he was walking into.

"I didn't mean to say that to you, in the shower. It was purposefully hurtful and I should not have let myself be provoked."

By the likes of you, a mere human, seems to be the implication. Lyle grimaces.

"I wasn't surprised to learn that Neil and I share taste in men," Lyle says, like it's an answer to Tieria's words. Tieria's glare is priceless and sends heat straight to Lyle's cock in a way he hasn't felt since he was eighteen and getting a farewell fuck from Neil.

"You're incorrigible." Tieria's tone says that while it's possible that it might not be a bad thing, it probably is.

"I'm sure my cute little instructor can find a way to correct me?" Lyle asks, noticing the way Tieria's gaze doesn't stay on Lyle's. No, it flickers down to Lyle's lap, back to the door, then returns to Lyle's face. So calculating. Lyle's cock twitches in anticipation; Tieria's gaze flickers downward again, following the movement.

"Your-" Tieria begins, and then just shakes his head. He won't say it, Lyle thinks, grinning. Cute little instructor. "_I_ believe that any efforts to correct you would ultimately be an exercise in futility."

Who did what, Lyle wants to ask, because he can't imagine Neil bottoming. He can't imagine Tieria bottoming, either, which is really the crux of the problem. He doesn't want Tieria to bottom. He wants Tieria to top. Top him. And if he asks, Tieria won't. He'll just leave.

Lyle licks his lips, half nervous habit and half attempt at seduction. "How did it start? With you and Neil, I mean."

Tieria looks like he might leave despite Lyle's carefully chosen words.

"I- I'm just curious, okay? Neil never mentioned a, ah. Boyfriend. So. I wonder."

The blush is slow this time the way it wasn't before, a gradual blooming of color over Tieria's space-pale skin. "What makes you think I'd tell you?" Tieria asks, voice tight with emotion.

"Because I'm not the same person, but I'm not so different from him either."

"It's easier to show you than to tell you," Tieria says, taking the few steps across the room to sit down at the foot of the bed. Tieria hesitates now, so Lyle sets aside his phone only to have Tieria pick it up. And scroll through the pictures. His expression goes from embarrassed to-maybe a little angry. It's definitely not happiness that colors his voice when he asks, "Who do you think took these pictures?"

"You?" Lyle guesses, because it seems like the most logical conclusion.

"Haro."

"Kinky little robot."

"Why do you think Neil felt the need to get falling-down drunk?"

Lyle realizes that he didn't think about it at the time-always the one eager to become anything but sober, when Neil followed it only seemed natural. Now, given the context, the answer can only be, "You."

"Not as stupid as you look. I turned Neil down. He got drunk. Haro took pictures and came to me so I would rescue Neil from his own stupidity."

Lyle sees the story a little differently than Tieria, but that is only because of the call. Neil hadn't been distressed. Just blind drunk. "Ah."

"Satisfied?" Tieria asks, shortly, looking up from Lyle's phone to study Lyle's face for a moment.

Lyle shrugs. Even if he and Neil share-shared-a willingness to misrepresent the truth in order to seduce a certain hard-to-get purple-haired meister, the story seems off somehow. "I guess. It just doesn't really add up, is all."

"Oh?" An emotion flashes in Tieria's eyes-surprise, maybe? It's there and gone too quickly for Lyle to identify.

"Mmhmmm. When he called me, he wasn't-"

"He _called you_?" Oh, it's anger. Lyle might be grinning a little. "He was-"

"Allowed to make personal calls, as long as they didn't exceed ten minutes in length. So are the rest of us."

Tieria's lips press together in an angry line. He presses a button on Lyle's phone and scoots a little closer, pressing it against the inside of Lyle's thigh as it starts vibrating.

Lyle, always of the firm belief that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, moans. Closes his eyes and puts his head back and maybe lets his legs fall open too. If Tieria's going to be this easy, no way in hell he is going to argue with that.

He expects something like 'you look exactly like him' or 'his moans were better' or, well, anything except for what Tieria says: "Wow."

Lyle spreads his legs wider, arching his hips against air in the vain hope to make Tieria maybe move the phone up a _little_. Not a lot. Really. He doesn't mind being teased. He just minds when it's-so unfulfilled.

"You did this for him, too. Begged with your body."

Nice of Tieria to go ahead and assume that the two of them had fucked before Neil joined Celestial Being. "Yeah."

"He was good at it."

At what, Lyle wants to ask, but doesn't dare. Not when Tieria finally starts to move the phone up, so slowly that he almost doesn't realize it at first. But there's cool air where the warmth of the phone was a few seconds ago, and the short, even pulses of vibrating warmth inch closer to the heavy hardness that is his erection.

"You're not anything like him in bed, are you?" Tieria's voice goes soft, becoming speculative. "You want to beg."

"Yes," Lyle says with feeling. "I love to beg. I love to be fucked."

"Keep going." Tieria's other hand palms one of Lyle's nipples.

Lyle arches into the touch, gasping. "I- since we met I. Can't stop thinking about your cock."

"What about my cock?"

Whether you put it in Neil or not, Lyle almost says, but he's not far enough gone to speak so thoughtlessly. Not yet.

"_Well_?" Tieria prompts.

"About..." Being still capable of self-censorship is one thing, coming up with a suitable replacement for what he censors is another entirely. "Your cock... in my ass."

"Ah. What position?" Tieria's question doesn't sound like a hypothetical one. It sounds like he's looking for a suggestion.

Lyle thinks that maybe, just maybe, it might be the first time Tieria's ever been in control of a situation like this. If he'd been the one topping Neil, he wouldn't-

Tieria pinches one of Lyle's nipples unkindly, moving the phone up far too quickly and pressing it against that space under Lyle's balls that makes him fucking spasm. Anything like coherency goes right out the window, with the parting sentiment that at least he'd figured out who did who.

"I could just make you come like this." He rocks the phone, pressing harder, letting up, but not pulling away entirely. Lyle's hips quickly find the pace of the movements, following Tieria's hand back and forth.

Despite how good as it feels, his cock fucking _aches_. He knows himself well enough to know that he can't come like this-even if this were Neil. There's just no way. "Fuck me. Please. Tieria."

"Details," Tieria says, tone deceptively soft. "Provide them. Now."

"Here! On.. on my bed. His bed," he amends hastily. "His bed. Fuck me, Tieria."

Tieria doesn't moan, doesn't make the least little sound, but there's heat in his eyes when he looks at Lyle and in his voice when he asks, "How? Fuck you, how?"

"With-with your cock. In- on- while I'm... like this. Spread out, for you." Lyle's normally a lot better at begging but he's also normally begging a lot earlier. Like before he's past the point where he needs to come or he feels like he's going to not-so-spontaneously combust.

He feels Tieria shifting on the bed and wants to like, _pay attention_, but Tieria drops the phone and wraps his fingers around Lyle's cock and Lyle can think is a crude combination of ohfuckno and ohfuckyes.

"Lift your-" Lyle lifts his hips before Tieria finishes, up too sharp, too fast, because Tieria's fingernails dig in in a bad-good-bad-more_now_ way. His head goes back and he moans, careless of the wall's lack of soundproofing.

Tieria is less careless though, and the hand on his cock presses over his mouth instead, bearing down as slippery fingers press at Lyle's entrance. Lyle bucks his hips, whining deep in his throat, wanting more and unable to ask and-

Tieria's fingers sink in easily, and if he's a little careless then so is Lyle. Arching and wanting and having trouble breathing just through his nose, but loving every god damned second of this.

"Hold _still_," Tieria says, voice a low growl, fingers twitching on Lyle's face.

Lyle tries. He really does, he grips the sheets and focuses his thoughts like he does when sniping and just. Holds still.

For about five seconds.

Then he lets out a whine that deteriorates into a throat-scream when Tieria's fingers work in and out of his ass like that. Jerky, and he can feel the unsteadiness of Tieria's breath, see the way Tieria's mouth hangs open and. Oh, god.

Please fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me, he thinks. Please please, please, please, fuck-

Tieria does. Guides Lyle's legs, one around his waist and the other over his shoulder-still pressing down on Lyle's mouth, muffling Lyle the best he can-and pushes inside of him. Not quick and smooth, but slow and jerky. A little and then stopping and that ragged panting interspersed with needy mewling sounds and then a little more. Oh, oh, oh, inch by inch, until he's all the way inside and Lyle's wrapping his leg around Tieria's waist and rolling his hips and Tieria's hand falls away from his mouth and they both moan.

"L-locko-o-onnn," Tieria stutters, thrusting of his hips matching the unevenness with which he pronounces the word.

Neil. Lyle is not sure whether he's acknowledging who Tieria's calling Lockon or his own desire for his brother. Both?

Both, he thinks, and comes.

"The pictures didn't have anything to do with you, did they?" Lyle asks, during breakfast the next day.

Tieria's eyes go wide in a rather gratifying way and he looks around, probably making sure nobody else is paying attention. They aren't. 90% of the ship is non-functional mentally before breakfast. Lyle and Tieria are just morning people.

"I. Um. Took them. For posterity."

Oh _really_? The color in Tieria's cheeks betrays the truth of the statement, along with the lie of 'I turned him down'. The alcohol was consumed in celebration, not defeat. "Where were you when he made the call?"

"Asleep, ah. In his bed."

That, Lyle thinks, explains a lot.


End file.
